Flummox
by xenascully
Summary: Our favorite NCIS team is sent to assist in the recovery of stolen high-tech military weapons, when one of them falls mysteriously ill... This is a crossover in a way, but more like a guest appearance from the cast of House MD. No ships
1. Chapter 1

**Flummox**

**Rated****: T to be safe.**

**Summary****: Our favorite NCIS team is sent to assist in the recovery of stolen high-tech military weapons, when one of them falls mysteriously ill... This is a crossover in a way, but more like a guest appearance from the cast of House MD.**

**Disclaimer****: I do NOT own the NCIS or House MD characters. But I do enjoy playing with them...ha!**

**A/N: ***_italics_*** (surrounded by astericks) indicate the black and white still-shots used in the show (NCIS), which I've nick-named "thwoop scenes". I don't do this with all my stories, but those who have read my stuff will recognize it. :) ENJOY!**

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

_***Gibbs shook his head, with a look of confusion written in his eyes...***_

Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo strolled out of the elevator and towards the bullpen with his back pack slung lazily over his shoulder. His colleagues eyed him as he silently maneuvered around to sit at his desk, dropping his bag and propping his elbows up as he massaged his temples with his fingertips.

"Rough night, Tony?" Special Agent Ziva David said with a smirk and a slightly mocking tone.

He made a face at her, "No..."

"Can't be a hangover," Special Agent McGee said with a smirk, "Or he'd have the infamous DiNozzo Defibrillator concoction with him."

"I don't drink on school nights, McGoo," Tony shot him a look of annoyance then opened his desk drawer to fetch some ibuprofen.

"Did you not just have a relaxing weekend camping with that...waitress you picked up?" Ziva raised a brow.

"Well I would have," he shot her a look, "Or did you forget it got cut short when we got called in for a case Saturday?"

"I did not forget," she grinned. Tony growled before popping a couple of the pills into his mouth and washing them down with his coffee. Ziva laughed through her nose.

"Where's Gibbs?" Tony asked.

"Up in MTAC," McGee answered. "Apparently, talking to the US Naval Investigative office in New Jersey."

"He contact them?" Tony asked out of curiosity.

"Other way around. Probably need some information on one of our past cases."

"They asked for our help, actually," Gibbs said as he rounded the corner into the bullpen. "Pack your bags."

"We goin' to Jersey, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Five Naval Officers disappeared from Earle Naval Weapons Station. A storage room containing over five-hundred weapons was emptied out, and all security cameras had been disabled."

"So they think the officers took them, I take it?" McGee said as he slung his back pack over his shoulder.

"That's what we're gonna find out," Gibbs said as he finished grabbing his things and headed to the elevator...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

The team stepped off of the plane and under the partly-cloudy sky of Lakewood, NJ. Tony stumbled slightly as he stepped off of the stairs, and ended up leaning on Ziva. "Sorry... Feelin' a little wobbly," he said as he regained his balance. "Musta been all that turbulence," he said with a grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she slung her overnight bag over a shoulder, "How is your headache?" she asked as the four of them walked toward the awaiting vehicle that would take them to the station.

"Barely noticeable," he lied. "We headin' to the station first, Boss?" he asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Maybe if we're lucky, we won't need to stay the night."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

The team met with two agents from the Jersey branch at the weapons station. They were being briefed in large warehouse-looking room where the storage bunkers were located. The agents, Jefferson and MaClure, were showing them pictures of the high-tech guns that were crates that had been stolen.

"We think they plan to sell them," Jefferson said. "They're top of the line weapons. No doubt they'd get a good chunk of cash for them."

"Five otherwise upstanding Naval officers, give up their careers for whatever amount of money they might get for a couple of crates of weapons...that they've gotta split up between them, might I add," Tony said. "Doesn't really add up." He was feeling restless and annoyed, and forced himself to sit down on a wooden crate that sat nearby.

"More likely that some of those officers got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time," Gibbs said.

"You think this is a hostage situation?" MaClure asked.

"Until bodies start showin' up," Tony replied.

"Of course, there's also the possibility that all of the officers were coerced," McGee suggested with a furrowed brow.

"Whoever was involved, knew this station inside and out," Jefferson explained. "All systems were methodically shut down according to where they were at what time. So the only thing we've got, is the exact time-frame of each action they took."

"If they'd just cut the security systems, it would've sent an alert out immediately," MaClure elaborated. "So it's gotta be one, if not all of the missing officers."

"Or someone else here," Gibbs said as he glanced around the warehouse. "I want you to take us through their every move according to the missing footage," he told Jefferson. "McGee, DiNozzo, check out the empty storage unit. Look for anything unusual."

"On it, Boss," Tony said and moved to push himself up from the crate. McGee watched, almost amused, as Tony fell face-first to the floor with a yelp.

"You okay, Tony?" Tim knelt down with a smirk. The other agents turned around from where they'd begun to walk away. Gibbs eyed his agent as he turned himself over with a panicked look on his face.

"I..." his eyes darted around with confusion before meeting Gibbs'. "I can't move my legs..."

"Quit fooling around, Tony," McGee said with slight concern, which he was trying to hide.

"I'm not...I'm not kidding, Probie!" Tony said, fearfully. "Boss," he looked up at Gibbs as he approached then knelt beside him. "What's wrong with me?"

_***Gibbs shook his head as his eyes narrowed. He was just as confused as his agent...***_


	2. Chapter 2

The Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital's diagnostic team stood around the conference table with files in-hand, ready to contest their potential patients to their leader. Dr. Gregory House balanced his cane on the corner of the stainless steel counter as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Thirteen," he chose to go first.

Dr. Remy Hadley glanced proudly amongst her colleagues before beginning, "Female, twelve years old, suffering severe headaches, vomiting and swollen appendages."

"Somebody buy her a bouquet and a gift certificate to Babies R Us," House said, passively, before taking a sip from his mug and grabbing his cane.

"She's twelve, House," Dr. Eric Foreman said with a cocky look on his face.

House squinted, then raised his brows, "That's...possibly the _dumbest_ thing I've ever heard you say," he moved to sit at the table. Dr. Chris Taub smirked at no one in particular. "I'm sure they've already had her pee in a cup, so the only problem she'll be having to deal with is the amount of bandwidth she might use up whilest searching the internet for the possibility that she could've 'caught it' sitting on a toilet seat, before telling Mom and Pop. Next! Chase!"

The Aussie rose his brows, a bit surprised he'd been picked next, but confident in the case he held in his hands. "Forty year old male," he began, "An NCIS agent who flew in from DC this morning on a case. An hour after he left the airport, he could no longer move his legs." House cocked his head with interest. But Dr. Robert Chase wanted to secure his win, so he gave a small smile and continued, "Six years ago, he was hospitalized with Y. Pestis. Specifically the pneumonic plague." He was successful by the look on House's face, and had even managed to earn the interest of the rest of the team.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Boss, you really don't have to stay here," Tony said sheepishly from his place in the hospital bed. "You should be helping with the case so we can get the hell outta here; get me over to Bethesda."

"McGee and Ziva are helpin' out, DiNozzo," Gibbs reassured him. "And I was told this hospital has one of the best diagnostic teams in the country. If anyone can figure out what's goin' on with you, they can."

Tony clenched his jaw and swallowed. He was scared, but he really didn't want to show that fact to his boss. "At least sit down, Boss. You're kinda makin' me nervous." Gibbs smirked at that and took a seat just as the glass doors to the room hissed open.

Two doctors entered, and Tony was immediately checking out the very good-looking female who approached the side of his bed. "Agent DiNozzo, I'm Dr. Hadley, and this is Dr. Chase. We have some questions for you."

"Well it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon, so go ahead," Tony replied with a flirty grin. But he watched as her eyes focused past him at Gibbs. "That's my boss," he told her. "He can stay."

"Agent Gibbs?" Chase asked. Gibbs nodded, curious as to how he knew his name. "Can I...actually have a word with you out in the hall?" he pointed behind him with his thumb. Gibbs squinted for a moment, meeting Tony's eyes briefly before standing to follow the doctor out. After reaching a bit of a distance from the room, Chase turned to face Gibbs. "I saw that you're listed as Agent DiNozzo's next of kin, and have been since he began working for NCIS," he started. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell us about his experience with the plague?"

Gibbs' brows raised in surprise, "You think this might have somethin' to do with that?"

"Not necessarily, but we can't rule anything out. There's not much information elaborating on it in the file Bethesda faxed over to us."

Gibbs took a breath and let it out slowly. "The Y. Pestis came in the form of powder in an envelope Tony opened. It was a genetically altered strand, resistant to antibiotics. But the biochemist had created some kinda suicide chain or something...whatever it was, killed the bugs after 32 hours. He almost died," he told him. _Otherwise, he would've had to deal with me,_ he said in his mind.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Cool," House grinned from where he stood beside the white board.

"But it has nothing to do with what's happening to him right now," Foreman argued.

"Probably not," Taub said, "But how many plague-survivors have you met in your lifetime?" he smirked.

"Foreman's right," Thirteen said as she looked back to House. "We need to concentrate on the current symptoms. He said his legs had been feeling weak and rubbery when he got off of the plane."

"He also said he'd been feeling sick like he might have the flu," Chase added, "And he mentioned getting the flu vaccine which his PCP suggested."

"No fever. Could be Guillain–Barré syndrome," Foreman suggested.

House considered it for a moment, though he wasn't completely satisfied. "Do a spinal tap to confirm," he decided, "Start him on a high dose of immunoglobulins." The team left House to himself as they exited the room to carry out their orders. He turned to face the white board as he twirled his cane in his hand.

"Are you busy, or are we still grabbing lunch?" he turned to Dr. James Wilson who now stood in the doorway. With a lazy grin, House walked toward the door and joined in step with his friend as they headed toward the elevator. "Remy told me you have an interesting case."

"Not as interesting as the patient's past," House replied.

"She also mentioned the interesting past," he smirked as he pressed the button for the elevator. "But you're less interested in the puzzle right in front of you, which makes me a bit curious."

"Curious?" he gave him a questioning look as they boarded the shaft. "I _am_ interested in the current puzzle, Wilson."

"But, you want to somehow link it back to the plague," he surmised.

"No," he grinned. "However cool that might be, there's no way that's what's causing his paralysis. The Y. Pestis strand was genetically altered and had a suicide switch. Anything that could've happened as a result, would've happened long before now. Besides, Foreman seems to think it's Guillain–Barré syndrome."

"And you don't?"

"Didn't say that."

"But you're thinking it?"

House glanced at him, "I'm _thinking_ it's too easy an answer," he said as the doors opened, and they headed out towards the cafeteria. "But this guy's an NCIS agent; he's been all over the place in God knows what conditions. And he lives in D.C, so it's a little out of the way to send Foreman and Thirteen to break in and search the place." They each grabbed trays and started down the line.

"It's too easy an answer for _you_," Wilson said. "Doesn't mean it's the wrong one."

"You're probably right," he said in a mocking tone as he grabbed a plate of apple pie and set in on his tray. "God knows that's usually how these talks end up, right?"

Wilson ignored the smart-ass remark. "Is that all you're going to eat?"

House looked down at his tray and pursed his lips. Then, as a last minute choice, he grabbed a carton of milk and looked at the cashier, "He's buying." He spun around, balancing his tray in one hand as he limped over to a table with the help of his cane. Wilson rolled his eyes and handed the cashier a ten, then turned to join his friend...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

Gibbs stood in the cafeteria line for coffee as he listened to McGee's update over the phone. _"We went over the report they gave us and realized that of all five officer's vehicles, only one is missing. At first, they figured they must've left in the fifth car, but while all five of them might've fit-"_

"The crates wouldn't have," Gibbs surmised.

_"Right. And according to the footage, no vehicles entered the garage with any type of hitch trailer or anything. In fact, it's not even permitted. They wouldn't have gotten through the gate. So, our guess is, two of them drove in together in the same car, and they all left in another vehicle."_

"Any company vehicles missing?" Gibbs asked as he reached the checkout.

_"One," _he replied, _"And they didn't think anything of it, at first, because it'd been signed out for maintenance. But it hasn't been returned and there's no record of it ever being brought out for repairs."_

"You got a BOLO out on it?"

_"We did...we found it," _McGee informed him. _"But it was empty, aside from some blood found in the back. They're having it run, now."_

"So they switched vehicles," Gibbs said. "Where did you find it?"

_"An alleyway about ten miles from here. They probably figured they wouldn't be seen, but they didn't take into account that there's a street cam pointing directly where we found the truck. We're uploading the footage now. Then we should be able to figure out what vehicle they're in now."_

"That's good word, McGee," he told him. "Ducky's on his way here, so I should be able to join you soon."

_"How is he, Boss?" _the worry in McGee's voice was clear.

"They're doin' tests," he replied. "They think it might be somethin' called Guillain-Barre syndrome."

_"S- seriously?"_ his voice seemed to raise an octave.

Gibbs raised his brows as he made his way into the elevator, "You know somethin' about it?"

_"Yeah, a little... There's no cure for it, I know that much."_

"They're treating him with immuno-something," he said with narrowed eyes.

_"It could take up to a year for him to recover," _he explained, grimly. _"And he'll need physical therapy to regain use of his legs, if that's even an option at this point..."_

"DiNozzo will be fine, McGee. He's in good hands here. And like I said, Ducky's on his way. You concentrate on the case; I'll catch up with you soon." He ended the call and let out a breath as the elevator doors opened on Tony's floor. Running a hand down his face, he tucked his phone away and headed for Tony's room.

Dr. Hadley was leaving the room as he approached, and she gave him a small smile before stopping in front of him. "He seems to be in good spirits, considering," she told him.

Gibbs smirked, "He was in 'good spirits' when his face was blue from the plague," he told her. "He doesn't usually show it when somethin's botherin' him. _Usually_," he emphasized.

"I hear his primary care physician is on his way in from D.C?"

"More as a friend, but yeah."

"You should probably warn him," she said with a slightly scrunched face. "Dr. House is a bit territorial about his patients."

"Dr. House?" he gave her a questioning look. "I saw the name on the chart, but I haven't seen him."

"Maybe I should rephrase the statement," she smirked. "He's territorial from _afar_. And...he's a bit of an ass, sometimes. But, he's a genius, so we do as he says."

Gibbs grinned at that, "Well, Ducky can handle his own."

"Ducky?" she raised a brow.

"Dr. Donald Mallard," he explained. "He'll tell ya to call him Ducky."

"Cute," she smiled. "He works for NCIS as well..."

"Yeah. He's our head Medical Examiner."

Hadley raised her brows in slight surprise, then her lips curled into a smile and a somewhat regretful look spread across her face. "Oh god...House is gonna have a field day with this."

"Like I said, Ducky can hold his own." She nodded and gave him a small smile before walking past him, and Gibbs made his way into Tony's room.

Tony lay at an incline, staring slightly in the direction of the window with a blank expression on his face until Gibbs came into his view and sat down beside the bed. As their eyes met, Tony quickly blinked back the flash of fear that appeared momentarily in his eyes. "Doin' okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, Boss," he gave a small smile. Gibbs held his gaze with a knowing, demanding glare. Tony swallowed, "Just a little unnerved by the fact that I might never walk again...that's all."

"That's not gonna happen, Tony. You'll get better."

"You don't know that for sure."

Gibbs shrugged, "I've got a gut feeling."

Tony grinned, "You're just sayin' that to make me feel better."

"Is it workin'?" he asked with raised brows. Tony looked down at his lap, hanging his head as he contemplated the question. When Gibbs was unsatisfied with the silence, he reached over and gave the agent a light smack to the back of the head.

Tony shot him a look, "Workin' now, Boss. Thanks." Though his smile was anything but serious, Gibbs seemed a little more satisfied. Their attention was pulled to the sound of the doors hissing open.

"Anthony, dear boy," Ducky walked into the room, removing his hat as he walked. "Trouble does seem to follow you wherever you go," he said with a smirk. "How are you feeling?"

"It's what I'm _not_ feeling that's got me worried, Ducky," Tony replied. "Thanks for comin' all the up here."

"No thanks needed," he said as he approached the bed. "I _did_ insist that you get that flu shot, after all."

"This isn't your fault," Tony insisted. "I've gotten them before and never had this kinda problem with 'em."

Gibbs stood from his seat, "I'm gonna go meet up with McGee and Ziva. See if we can't wrap up this case," he walked to Ducky's side. "You call me if anything should change," he told him, then turned to look at Tony. "Hang in there, DiNozzo. I'll see ya later." Tony nodded in acknowledgment and watched as his boss turned and left the room.

Ducky rounded the bed and sat down in the chair beside his friend. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, Anthony," he told him.

"It's okay...like I said, it's not your fault. And like _you_ said, stuff like this kinda follows me around."

"That doesn't make it any more fair," he put a hand on the agent's arm. "But if it were to happen anywhere, it's probably lucky it happened here. You have an excellent diagnostician working your case."

"Yeah... Dr. House. And we haven't even seen him yet. But his team is pretty nice. Especially Dr. Hadley," he grinned. "I'm still tryin' to figure out why I heard one of them call her 'Thirteen'."

Ducky laughed through his nose, amused. "A mystery we might try and figure out while we wait," he grinned.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Do you think he will be alright?" Ziva asked McGee as prepared the equipment in the van they'd be traveling in with the other agents to go after the vehicle they'd discovered and tracked from the footage.

"He's in good hands, Ziva," Tim answered without looking up from his work.

"So I keep hearing," she said, slightly annoyed.

"Ducky's with him now. Gibbs is on his way here. Hopefully we can wrap up this case and go see him."

"That's the plan," they turned to Gibbs' voice as he climbed into the van.

"Just in time, Boss," McGee glanced at him. "We've got a hit on their location and a trace on one of their phones. Jefferson has two teams already en route."

"Then what're we waitin' for?" Gibbs asked as he made his way to the front.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

House made his way toward his patient's room, eager to have a word with the M.E who happened to be DiNozzo's PCP. Eager wasn't really the word...more like 'curious'. Mostly, to understand how it came to be that the agent had decided on a medical professional who worked primarily on the deceased.

He made his way into the room, glancing briefly at the sleeping patient before meeting the eyes of the M.E. "No wonder this guy's legs don't work," he said in a cocky way and he approached the foot of the bed. "He takes his medical advice from a doctor who works with people who don't really give a crap about such frivolous matters like, oh I don't know...the ability to use their limbs," he grabbed the chart from the footboard.

"You must be Dr. House," Ducky smirked.

"My reputation proceeds me," he said flatly without looking away from the papers.

"Anthony is aware of my lack of bedside manner," he told him. "However, he prefers it over being in a hospital. He's quite stubborn in that matter."

"Clearly that's turned out to be the better alternative," he glanced at the M.E. "Well, at least he won't be expecting a good bedside manner. That's one thing I've been told I could improve on."

"Yet, don't take under advisement; that much seems clear." House looked over at the doctor again and the corner of his mouth turned up, amused.

Their attention moved to Tony when they heard him groan a bit. Ducky stood and went to his side, putting a hand on his arm, "Are you alright, Tony?"

"Stomach hurts," he said, sleepily, as his eyes cracked open. He looked up at Ducky, who seemed to be a bit shocked as he looked back and forth between Tony's eyes. "What is it, Duck?"

House replied for him, "You're eyes are yellow. Jaundice," he squinted.

Ducky turned to look at the diagnostician, "It's not Guillain-Barre..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**Tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

_***Remy met Taub's eyes; both realizing their patient was only getting worse...***_

**11 111 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Thanks, again, for your help, Agent Gibbs, McGee...Ziva," Jefferson said as he shook each person's hand. They'd apprehended the suspects and all of the weapons. They'd been correct about the hostage situation; three of them had been found tied up in the back of their swapped vehicle, injured but not seriously so. "I hope your agent will be okay."

"He will be," Gibbs replied, right as his cell rang in his pocket. He nodded to the agent before walking away a bit and answering, "Yeah. Gibbs."

_"Jethro,"_ Ducky's voice sounded on the other line. _"Something's happened..."_

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"You're certain there's nothing wrong with his spinal column," Ducky asked from where he sat at the conference table with the diagnostic team.

"X-rays showed no sign of any fractures," Foreman said.

"And the MRI showed no sign of masses or tumors in his brain," Chase said.

"The jaundice has already started to go away," Thirteen said, "Which means it's not a related symptom. It was the immunoglubins."

"Which brings us back to square one," House chimed in.

"It could be a metabolic disorder," Taub suggested.

"Or MS," Chase added.

"No one's gonna suggest Lupus?" House asked with a mocking look of surprise.

"He doesn't have any of the other symptoms," Foreman defended.

"Well, we could sit around and wait for something else to go wrong," House said as he tapped his chin. "Or we can test him now, and save him the trouble. Of course...that's up to you. Oh wait! No it's not...Go!"

Ducky watched as House's team flooded out of the room and the lead diagnostician stayed and turned to face the white board again. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't believe any of those diagnoses are correct?" he asked.

House twisted around to briefly glance at the doctor he hadn't realized was still in the room. "Call it a hunch," he told him.

Ducky smirked at the familiarity in the man's personality and stood from the table as he began to approach where the doctor stood. "I read his chart, so I know you've had him tested across the board for STDs. With all of them coming back negative, I'm interested to know what else you think it could be that's causing his paralysis."

"Well I'll be sure to inform you once I have anymore ideas...Ducky, is it?"

"That's what my friends call me," he replied, a bit weary of what the doctor might say next. "But if you'd prefer, you can call me Dr. Mallard."

"But I don't have a cutesy name to offer you to call _me_," he said with a mockingly regretful look on his face.

Ducky kept a neutral face as he replied, "That's quite alright, Dr. House. Not everyone is secure enough with their manhood to openly go by a seemingly childish nickname."

After a moment, the corners of House's lips turned up into an almost wicked grin, "I _like_ you, Ducky."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Seriously, guys, you've taken blood like fifty times!" Tony said angrily as Taub drew blood from Tony's arm. "Can't you test one of the other vials?"

"I know it seems excessive, but it's necessary," Hadley said as she adjusted the IV bags at his other side.

"Well, goddamnit, can you just take enough for however many other tests you'll need to run, and get it over with?"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs stated firmly from where he sat near the window. "Stop givin' them a hard time and let 'em do their job."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Taub said with a small smile as he pulled the vial from Tony's arm.

"Yes...THANK YOU, BOSS!" Tony nearly shouted in frustration, startling the lot of them. Ziva and Tim shared a shocked glance from where they were standing across the room. Gibbs stood, ready to reprimand his agent, but Tony began to cough.

"You need to calm down, Tony," Hadley told him, then handed him a glass of water.

"Sorry..." he said sheepishly and went to take the cup from her hand. But to his, and everyone else's surprise, it dropped immediately to his lap.

"Oh god...I'm sorry," Remy reached for a towel from the drawer to clean up the mess.

"Wasn't your fault," Tony's voice was small and afraid. They all focused on his face as he continued, "I couldn't grab it..." Tony held both hand out in front of him, trying like hell to bend his fingers, but he couldn't...

_***Remy met Taub's eyes; both realizing it was only getting worse...***_

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

_**Tbc...**_

**A/N: Short chapter on purpose! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, new symptom," House said enthusiastically as he scribbled the word 'agitation' onto the white board under the list. "Not to mention the paralysis...because, well...that's already a symptom. Any bright ideas, yet?" he turned to his team.

"Metabolic tests aren't back yet," Thirteen said.

"We could start treating him for MS," Taub suggested.

"It's too quickly progressed to be MS," House stated.

"Well maybe we missed something on the MRI," Foreman suggested. "He could've moved, blurred the image."

"So you think he could have brain cancer?" Chase asked.

"It's possible," Foreman said. "After everything we've run, we're kinda running outta options."

"What about bone cancer?" Taub asked.

"He would've been in pain," House explained. "In fact...that's one thing he _hasn't_ complained about." He squinted before turning around and scribbling something else onto the list. "Brain cancer doesn't really fit," he took a breath. "Ask him if it runs in his family. And ask Ducky if he keeps embalming chemicals in his autopsy bay. Either way, Foreman, redo the MRI. Might not be brain cancer, but it might've missed _something_."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"I don't understand what's happening to him," McGee said to Ziva as they sat in the cafeteria by the window. He frowned as he stared down at his cup of coffee, tapping his thumb against the side of it in an unsteady rhythm.

"It does not seem that anyone does, right now, McGee," Ziva reminded him.

"This just sucks..." he slouched a bit, defeated, in his seat. "I wish there was something I could do."

"You could start by eatin' somethin'," they turned toward Gibbs' voice to see him and Ducky approaching their table.

"Boss! Any word on the test results?" Tim asked eagerly as he moved down in the booth to make room for Ducky to sit; Ziva doing the same for Gibbs.

"Not yet. They're redoing the MRI," Ducky explained. "They feel the first one might have missed something."

"They took him for it a few minutes ago," Gibbs told them. "We're probably gonna be here a while. If you're not gonna catch a flight home tonight, you might wanna go find a hotel nearby."

"I- I'm not going back while he's sick," Tim said. "I mean...if that's okay with you, Boss...I don't wanna leave."

"I wish to stay as well," Ziva voiced.

Gibbs nodded to them, "Duck, you should probably go get some sleep, too. I'll stay here with DiNozzo."

"Yes, well...I will admit to feeling a bit of jet lag still. However, the MRI will be a while. I suggest, before we go anywhere, that we grab something substantial to eat."

Gibbs cocked his head, "Might wanna try another venue. Doesn't look like much of anything good here."

"What about you?" Ziva raised a brow.

"Like I said, I'm stayin'. I'll manage to find somethin'."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"So your best guess is brain cancer, now?" Wilson asked from his seat at his desk.

"It's actually Foreman's best guess," House replied where he was sprawled on the lounge across from Wilson's desk. "Or...it might've been Chase's best guess," he looked up at the ceiling in thought. "I'm not sure... But yeah," he sat up and planted his cane on the floor between his feet. "Once the images come back, I need you to take a look."

Wilson narrowed his eyes and cocked his head slightly, "O...kay." He could tell by the way House wrung the neck of the cane in his hands, that something was weighing on his mind. "But you don't think it's cancer..." he surmised.

House looked up at him, "We're missing something."

"Clearly," he said with raised brows and a look of amusement on his face.

"Nothing fits how fast it's progressing," he looked at the floor again, and Wilson appraised him carefully.

"What's got you so riled up about this case, House?" he asked curiously.

House shot him a look, "I'm not _riled up_," he defended. "It's a puzzle...like every other puzzle. Except this is like a...hundred piece puzzle someone cut up into a thousand pieces and painted over. It's a simple answer, but there's no picture to reference from."

"There's _never_ a picture," Wilson had to laugh. "That's _your_ job."

"No, the picture is the answers. It's my job to put the pieces together."

"Well..." Wilson focused somewhere between them, "Maybe you...just don't have all the pieces." House met his eyes for a moment before focusing somewhere on the man's desktop...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

Gibbs approached Tony's room, noticing the agent was alone, staring out at the evening sky. He slowed a bit before entering, and Tony turned his head to see him as he rounded the bed and sat down beside him in the chair. "Everything go okay?" he asked.

Tony closed his eyes and tilted his head, shrugging a shoulder up against his ear in effort to relieve an itch he couldn't successfully do with his now useless hands. "Nothing's changed, if that's what you're asking," his voice was shaking as if he were desperately holding back tears.

"Hey," Gibbs put a hand on Tony's shoulder, and Tony opened his eyes and focused on his boss; jaw clenching. "They're gonna figure this out, Tony. You're gonna be okay."

"They think I could have brain cancer, Boss," he clamped his mouth closed and tried to compose himself. Gibbs narrowed his eyes for a moment as his agent took a few fearful breaths.

"Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

"Boss, I can't...I can't move," he said through gritted teeth. "My arms and legs are useless. I could be bedridden for the rest of my life. If I'm lucky...I'll just...die quickly and get it over with."

Gibbs thought, for a split second, about smacking him upside the head. But decided that probably wasn't the best idea at this time. "Don't...ever say that again, DiNozzo," he said firmly.

Tony turned his head slightly away, "'M sorry, Boss. I'm just...I'm scared, okay?" he tried to blink back the tears before they could fall, but it was pointless. It only frustrated him further that he couldn't even swipe them away. He felt Gibbs' hand move to the top of his head, comfortingly smoothing through his hair. But then there was a slight tightening in his chest, and it only took a few moments to realize something was very wrong. "Boss..." his breathing grew labored. "Boss, I...I can't breathe..."

Gibbs stood and pressed the call button before the monitor beside the bed began to alarm. "Hang on, Tony," he said with panic in his voice as he glanced out the glass doors to see nurses rushing toward the room. "He says he can't breathe," he told them as they surrounded both sides of the bed, and he moved out of their way. Tony's struggle was becoming more intense and it caused Gibbs' heart to clench in his chest.

"He's going into respiratory arrest!" one of the nurses called out. "Page Dr. House; we're gonna need to intubate. Sir, we're gonna have to ask you to leave!"

Gibbs backed out of the room, never taking his eyes off of his agent, and watched through the glass panels separating him from the room. Tony's eyes were closed now where he lay limply on the bed. He watched as they intubated him; watched as they started artificial respiration, and the monitor slowly began to return to normal levels. It seemed to take a long time, but really only took a minute or two.

His attention was pulled away as the diagnostic team rushed past him and into the room. Suddenly his blood was boiling with anger. He stopped Dr. Chase in his tracks before he could get into the room. "Where's Dr. House?" he asked firmly.

"We're his team, Agent Gibbs."

"I know that. But I haven't seen him even once since we've been here."

"I can assure you that we're doing everything we can-"

Gibbs stepped up to his face with a glare in his eyes, "You're doin' everything _you_ can. House is the godamn miracle worker. So where the hell is the sonofabitch?"

"Dr. Sonofabitch...where have I heard _that_ before?" they turned toward the voice of the lead diagnostician who was making his way up the hall toward the room. Chase cleared his throat and backed away, ducking into Tony's room as House neared the NCIS team leader...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**tbc...**


	5. Chapter 5

"I happen to know you don't have any other cases," Gibbs started, keeping his anger at bay for the moment. "So why the hell is it I've never seen you till now?"

"I confess," House mockingly replied. "There's a craps table in the physicians lounge and I've got a bit of a gambling problem."

"You think you're funny?" Gibbs squinted.

"Yes!" House leaned on his cane planted directly in front of him. "This isn't really a teaching hospital; it's a clown college. I'm the professor, so naturally I'm the funniest." Gibbs glared at the man, realizing that responding with words wasn't going to get him anywhere. Instead, he relied on a glare that would usually get answers from anyone else if he'd held it long enough.

House cocked his head a bit to the side as he observed the agent. "If you're trying to set me on fire with your mind, I feel I should save you the effort and let you know it's been tried before. Never works."

"What I'm tryin' to do is figure out why you're not helping my agent!" he yelled with a look of fury on his face.

"I'd like to, except it seems I'm under investigation," he said mockingly. "Of course, this really isn't your jurisdiction." He looked through the glass at the unconscious patient, "And it seems I can't really ask him the questions I'd intended to, anymore."

"Ask _me_."

"No offense, but I doubt you'd be able to answer for everywhere he's been in the past few weeks."

"Try me," he kept his focus on the doctor as House turned to face him again. "He's my senior field agent. Spends most of his time in the office or the field with me."

"If he got sick on the job, chances are you or another member of your team would be getting sick as well. I don't suppose you'd know what he did on his down time."

Gibbs smirked, "Down time is not something we get much of."

"Sounds familiar. Which is why I spend so much time at the craps table," he said, mockingly. "Unfortunately, that doesn't help us to figure out what's happening to your agent," he turned back to Tony.

Gibbs thought for moment, "He was supposed to go camping last weekend," he recalled. "Got cut short after one night out."

"His blood's been checked for parasites. And unless he was camping in South America and decided to eat cassava, I doubt we'll find our answer there."

"One of your team told him you thought he could have brain cancer. Would that make his lungs stop workin'?"

"It could," House took a breath. "Our chief oncologist is taking a look at the MRI results now."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, detecting something in what the doctor was saying. "But you don't think that's what's wrong with him," he surmised.

House scrunched his face and looked up at the ceiling with his eyes, "I thought that much was obvious."

Gibbs turned to face him again and gave him another dose of glare, "You're supposed to be the expert here. Why don't you go in there and figure this out?"

House shrugged, "No point, now. He's unconscious," he turned and began to walk off.

"Where the hell are you going?" Gibbs called after him.

"Race track," he replied as he walked. "I've got a hundred bucks on a quarter named Sprinkles."

Gibbs hurriedly caught up with him, grabbed his arm and spun him around, shoving him up against the wall, "You may not give a damn about your patient, but that's my agent in there. He's my friend. If he dies while you're sittin' around with your dick in your hand, you'll have _me_ to deal with."

House was taken back a bit by the sudden compromising position. But it only took a moment to regain his composure, even thrust up against the wall with his cane wedged between them. "First of all, I'm pretty sure there's a law about indecent exposure at the track," he said with his usual tone of candor. But then he softened a bit at the intensity in the eyes of the man in front of him, "All joking aside, though... I'm not leaving here without figuring this out."

Gibbs searched the man's eyes for any hint of dishonesty. When he found none, he loosened his hold on him. "What can I do to help?" he asked in a quiet voice.

House straightened his suit coat and stretched his neck. "Figure out who he went camping with and ask them if they did anything unusual, saw anything...ate anything remotely strange. Do you have any agents who could go by his home?"

Gibbs thought for a moment, then nodded. "Have them call me when they get there and I'll tell them what to look for..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

McGee sat on the bed in the hotel, his back against the headboard and his laptop perched on his outstretched legs. From the moment they'd checked in, he'd been scouring the internet for possible answers to what could be going on with Tony. But the longer he looked, the more obvious it was that the Princeton-Plainsboro diagnostic team had exhausted all possibilities. Tim rubbed his tired eyes with his fingertips. He was thoroughly exhausted from the stress of the day and he was worried for his friend.

A sound pinged from his computer and he dropped his hands to look at the screen. An instant message box had opened from Abby.

Abby: Hey, Timmy! How's the case going? I'm guessing you're staying overnight?

Tim: Case is done. But yeah, we're staying. Don't know for how long yet.

Abby: Why? What do you mean?

McGee hesitated for a few moments, contemplating whether or not he could handle the inevitable freak-out that would happen if he explained it to her.

Abby: Tim? Is everything okay?

Tim: Tony's sick.

Abby: Too sick to fly home?

Tim: Yeah. He's in the hospital. Gibbs is with him.

Abby: Omg...I knew there was something hinky going on as soon as I heard Ducky was flying up there! What's wrong with him? He didn't seem sick before you guys left this morning...

Tim: Yeah, I know. I'm not sure what he's got, but they're working on it.

Abby: Is it serious? I mean...should I come up there?

Tim: No. I mean yes it's... no, you shouldn't come up here. Not yet, anyway. Hold on...Gibbs calling.

"Yeah, Boss?" Tim said as he answered his cell.

_"Any idea who DiNozzo went camping with last weekend?" _

"Uh...I think he said her name was Tracy. Wait...why aren't you asking Tony this?" his brow furrowed.

_"He can't talk right now. Listen, I need you to find out the girl's name and get me her number."_

"Yeah...I can just...access his phone records. Boss...w- why can't he talk right now?"

_"They had to put him on a ventilator, McGee. He's being sedated." _Tim's breath hitched. He knew this was really bad news. _"Need you to call Abs for me; have her get into Tony's apartment. The doc here wants her to look for anything that might've made him sick." _There was a notable amount of silence on both ends. _"McGee!"_

"Uh, yes, Boss. I'm on it. I'll tell Abby, and I'll call you back with the number as soon as I find it." Gibbs ended the call before Tim could ask anything else. For a moment, he was lost in a feeling of eminent doom. But then he remembered his orders.

Tim: Abby...you need to get into Tony's place.

Abby: Ok. What for?

Tim: The doctor taking care of Tony wants to see if there's anything there that could've made him sick.

Abby: What am I looking for? What are his symptoms?

Tim: Don't freak out, please.

Abby: Timmy, you're not even here. I can freak out if I want to! I'm gonna freak out regardless! Just tell me so I can try and help!

Tim: His limbs are paralyzed. They haven't found a reason why yet. And Gibbs just told me they had to put him on a ventilator.

There was a disturbingly long duration of silence from her end. McGee imagined that she was having a mini nervous breakdown right there in her lab...or home; wherever she was.

Tim: Abby...

Silence...

Tim: Abby?

Silence...

"Damnit," he picked up his cell and dialed her number. It rang three times before she picked up.

_"McGee, I'm trying to get to my car," _she sounded out of breath.

"Sorry. You didn't respond, so I wasn't sure if you were okay."

_"I kinda bolted when you told me that..."_

"Yeah...I understand."

_"Timmy, tell me he's gonna be okay," _her voice didn't mask the concern and tears she was probably so close to shedding.

"I wish I could, Abs. I dunno why this is happening..."

_"You sound like Gibbs... Why can't you people just...I dunno, tell me everything's gonna be okay? Just TELL me!"_

"I'm scared, too," he said with a frown he was sure she could detect through the phone. "I've gotta go. I gotta track down a number for Gibbs. Call me when you get to Tony's."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

Gibbs kept vigil beside Tony's bed, lost in uncertainty of his agent's fate. Dr. Hadley entered quietly, aside from the hissing of the doors, and approached the other side of the bed to check his vitals and up the o2 on the ventilator. "Do you want some more coffee, Agent Gibbs?" she asked with a small smile. "We've got some in our office. I can get you a refill if you want."

He gave a weak smirk and looked down at the cup in his hands, "How'd you know I was empty?"

"You haven't left here in about twenty minutes, and I've watched you put them away since you got here," she replied.

He smiled at that, but it quickly faded as his eyes dropped back on Tony. "If it's brain cancer," he began. "What happens then?" He met her eyes, "Don't sugar coat it for me."

She studied him for a moment, "Marines?" Gibbs cocked his head and the corner of her lips turned up. "I've got a lot of military in my family. Marines definitely never stop looking like a Marine. They usually don't stop _thinking_ like them, either. So I'll give it to you straight. I don't think it's brain cancer. But if it is, as much as Tony's symptoms have progressed, he won't come back the same."

"You don't think it's cancer. So what _do_ you think it is?"

"Honestly, I don't know," she said honestly. "But whatever's causing this, if we don't find out soon, he's not gonna make it," she bit down on her bottom lip at the man's obvious struggle not to show his devastation. "I'm sorry."

"How long?" he asked in barely a whisper.

"I can't really say-"

"How long do you _think_?" he said more sternly, his resolve slightly slipping.

She took a breath, "At this rate, without any answers...maybe a day." Gibbs' head dropped; his elbows resting on his knees as he breathed. Remy moved around to his side, gently taking his empty coffee cup and quietly made her way out of the room.

When he heard the doors hiss closed, he pushed up from the chair and went to Tony's side. For a moment, he watched his chest rise and fall along with the hissing of the machine. Then he bent down close to his ear, "Tony...you listen to me. I need you to fight this..." He closed his eyes, swallowing down the lump that was growing in his throat. "Whatever this is...Tony...you fight this," he put his hand on Tony's head, hoping the agent could feel it; hear what he was saying to him.

With his free hand, he reached back to slide the chair closer and sit. He couldn't help but to be overwhelmed by how quickly everything had gone to hell. Just a few nights ago, they'd been at the local bar having a couple of beers. One of the few times he could openly enjoy his agent's joking behavior without having to cut it short to pull him back into the seriousness of being on the job.

He really did like Tony. Hell, he even loved the kid; he was like a son to him. Like a son... he was going to lose his son... There was nothing he could do about it. If it had been on the job, he would've taken a bullet for him, no question. But there was nothing he could take for him, now. There was no way to save him from this; it was out of his hands. And the hands he was in had no idea how to even begin to save him...

Tears began to sting Gibbs' eyes as reality set in, but he fought them back. He didn't want to give up hope yet. Luckily his cell began to buzz in his pocket and he was forced to get up and leave the room to answer. "Yeah. Gibbs."

_"Boss, I found the number for Tracy Bellmont," _McGee said.

"Good. Call her; give her House's number and tell her to call him. Tell her why."

_"You okay?" _Obviously, Tim had recognized the pain in Gibbs' voice.

"Yeah, McGee. Just tired," he ran a hand down his face. "Abby searching Tony's place?"

_"Yeah, she's there now. She said she'd search all night if she had to."_

"Give her House's number, too. He said he'd tell her what to keep an eye open for. And Tim..." McGee was taken back a bit by the use of his first name. "Try and get some sleep tonight, okay?"

The softness in his boss's voice caused Tim great concern. He hadn't heard that tone since Kate died. Back then, McGee kinda liked the 'nice-Gibbs'. Tony hadn't; he said 'nice-Gibbs' wasn't Gibbs. It meant something was wrong... _"I...I'll try, Boss,"_ he decided. _"See you first thing..."_

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**tbc...**

**I'm too tired to proofread tonight. So...sorry for any typos or unintentional misuse of grammar. **


	6. Chapter 6

"You're getting coffee for Agent Gibbs, now?" Chase inquired as Hadley filled the cup.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" she quirked a brow at him.

"It...it's just, well... it's something I've only ever seen Cameron do, I suppose. Cater to a visitor, that is."

"I'm not catering, Chase," she defended. "Gibbs is...a sweet man. He's stayed by Tony's side all day and he's just his boss. He treats him like a son. It's nice to see that _some_ work situations can be like that."

"Or maybe even just not as hostile as ours?" he smirked.

She cocked her head, "I think hostile _works_ for our team." She smiled.

He couldn't help but to return it, "You're probably right."

"Still...it's nice to see it exists somewhere," her face fell a little bit. "It's just too bad this is happening to his agent. It's gonna be hard on him, I can tell."

"We could still figure this out, Remy," he assured her. After a moment, she nodded with pursed lips, then brushed past him with the cup of coffee in-hand...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"I just got off the phone with a very saucy forensic scientist," House said as he entered Tony's room.

"She find anything?" Gibbs asked as he appraised the man who approached Tony's bedside.

"A half-empty bottle of antidepressants in his bathroom trashcan." Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "What? You didn't know he was taking antidepressants?" the question was laced with sarcasm. Gibbs glared at him. "Well, I'm not entirely surprised. They were prescribed by a different doctor, which leads me to believe your agent was hiding things from you."

"They were in the trash," Gibbs defended. "So maybe he wasn't takin' 'em anymore."

"That's the problem," House pressed the nurse-call button. "If he stopped taking them cold turkey, it could explain his symptoms. And chances are, he's been self-medicating in another fashion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs stood, defensively at the other side of the bed.

"Drugs, drinking...sky-diving...who knows? Point is, no one knows but him." A young, female nurse entered the room. "So we need to ask him," he met Gibbs' eyes, then turned to the nurse, "Wake him up."

"Is that a good idea?" Gibbs asked as the nurse brushed past him. "He can't talk with the ventilator in..."

"Yes or no questions," House explained as the nurse injected something into Tony's arm. Almost immediately, Tony's eyes began to flutter open, and in realizing the device in his throat, he began thrashing about on the bed as much as he could without his limbs. Panic was evident in his face and he was fighting the machine.

Gibbs pushed his way to his agent's side and put a hand on his chest and forehead, "DiNozzo!" he stated firmly. The others in the room were slightly surprised by the sudden stillness of the patient at the sound of his boss's voice. "The tube is helpin' ya breathe. Don't fight it. Dr. House needs you to answer some questions. Think you can handle that?" Tony's eyes flitted around in confusion. "Blink. Once for yes, twice for no." Tony met his eyes again and blinked once. Gibbs gave him a small smile, then looked over at House.

House gave him a quick nod of appreciation before looking down at Tony. "You're friend, Abby, found a half-empty bottle of antidepressants in your trash," he began. Tony's eyes shows sudden panic. "My question is, did you stop taking them cold turkey?"

Tony's eyes shifted from House to Gibbs, nervously. "Just answer it, Tony," Gibbs instructed. "It's important."

Tony looked at House again and blinked twice. "Okay...are you telling me you weaned yourself off of it slowly?" House's face was one of slight disbelief. Tony blinked once. "Did you replace it with something else?" Gibbs watched as Tony flinched at the question. "Have you been doing any recreational drugs...like, I dunno...an eight-ball on your camping trip?" he said with sarcasm.

Gibbs knew the answer to that before Tony even replied with two blinks. "Maybe you should leave the room," House told Gibbs. Gibbs gave him a glare. "You're his boss; of course he's not gonna tell me what he does behind closed doors, with you standing here."

"You'll get more truth outta him with me standin' here, than if I were to leave," he said with conviction.

House raised his brows, then looked down at the patient, "Is that true?" Tony blinked once, hard. House sighed. "I suppose it would've been obvious if he had a drinking problem, seeing as he works most of the time." He looked down somewhere along the bed rail in thought. "That leaves us with nothing...still," he looked up at Gibbs for a moment. "Still waiting on a call from whoever he went camping with." After a moment, he motioned with his head for Gibbs to follow him into the hall.

Gibbs looked down at Tony, "Be right back." Then followed the doctor out.

"At the risk of being mauled, I'm gonna go ahead and suggest you call his family in the morning," House told him as the doors hissed closed behind them.

"So you're giving up... What about the MRI?" Gibbs squinted.

"I'm going to talk to Wilson about that, now. But even if we do find something on there, that doesn't guarantee we'll be able to make him better." House looked at Gibbs with sympathy, but more with self-defeat, angry with himself for not being able to solve the problem. After one last glance into the room, he briefly met Gibbs' eyes again, "Call his family...let 'em say their goodbyes." He turned and began his trek away from the room and toward the elevator.

Gibbs stood there, watching him walk away; a battle of anger and dread wagering in his head. Then he turned and walked back into the room, quietly asking for the nurse to give them a few minutes. Taking a breath, he approached his place beside Tony's bed and met his eyes, struggling not to show the pain he was so desperately trying to keep at bay. But the look of fear in his agent's eyes proved that he'd failed.

The only thing Tony felt more than fear in that moment, was frustration in the fact that there was no way to express any of it. The look in his boss's eyes spoke a thousand words. Dr. House must have told him bad news...really bad news, for him to be looking at him the way he was. He watched as Gibbs pulled a chair close up to the side of the bed and sat, putting his elbows on the mattress.

"They're tryin' to tell me...you don't have much longer," he told him before needing to pause and swallow at the lump in his throat. Tony's brow furrowed as he listened. "But I don't believe that, Tony..." he shook his head and placed his hand at the top of Tony's head again. "I'm _not_ gonna let that happen..." his voice cracked.

Tony felt his heart sink in his chest at those words. Gibbs was trying to claim some kind of responsibility for this mysterious illness to miraculously go away. And there was no way he could do that... Tony couldn't allow his boss; his friend, to go on believing that he'd somehow let him down. As he waited for Gibbs to meet his eyes, he felt his own fill with tears. But when their eyes locked, he blinked hard, twice, hoping to convey the message without having distracted him with the tears that were now rolling down the sides of his face.

Gibbs seemed to understand, but he wiped his free hand down his face in frustration. "I'm not givin' up on you," he said in barely a whisper. "You better not, either. Or you'll have me to deal with. Ya got that, DiNozzo?"

Tony felt Gibbs' hand tighten slightly in his hair, and he blinked once, wishing more than anything that he could somehow speak in any way...tell him how much he meant to him; thank him for everything. For keeping him around, always having his six, and like now, never giving up on him. But like everything else, he knew that Gibbs must already know that...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

With Ziva driving the rental and Ducky in the front passenger seat, McGee sat alone in the back; Ducky's words running through his head. He'd come to his room not five minutes earlier, telling him that Gibbs had called and said they should come back; that the doctors had said Tony might not make it through the next day.

It was a silent journey through the dark city. But thoughts ran through their heads that made it unnoticeable. "I should call Abby," McGee said quietly. "If I don't...if she doesn't get to see him..." his voice cracked and he turned his head as much as he could to hide his face at the window. He felt sick... "Ziva, pull over..."

"What?"

"Just please pull over, Ziva!" he said more firmly and she immediately did so. He threw open his door and managed to get out and to the grassy side of the road before vomiting the dinner they'd had earlier.

"Dear me, Timothy," Ducky said as he got out of the car and went to his side. "Are you alright?" He couldn't reply as he continued to heave. "Ziva, there's a bottle of water in the trunk if you could fetch it," he told her where she stood just outside her door looking worriedly over at him.

Tim's heaving turned into a slight cough as he finished, and Ziva was soon at his side with the water. He silently took it and rinsed his mouth. "Are you okay, McGee?" she asked.

"I don't think I can do this," he said. "I can't watch Tony die..."

"He might be okay," Ziva said.

"That's not what Gibbs said," McGee retorted. "That's not why we're going back in the middle of the night..." he turned and headed back toward the car.

"We are all worried, McGee," Ziva seemed to be at his side again as he rested his hands on the hood of the car. "It will be hard to see him like this, but we cannot allow our fear to stop us from telling him what we need to say... You would not be able to forgive yourself if you did not tell him."

"He's my best friend, Ziva," he said in barely a whisper.

She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, "Then tell him that..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

Dean of Medicine Lisa Cuddy's heels clicked as she walked up the hall towards House's office. She'd been stuck all day in New York at a medical conference, but caught a fast flight back when she heard there was an NCIS agent being treated by House's team. After a brief update via phone call with Foreman, she was slightly worried that House might have given their guests his usual treatment.

As she approached, she saw him seated at his desk, throwing his oversized tennis ball against the wall. "House," she said as she pushed open the door. "You're still here, but seemingly doing nothing. Why does that surprise me?"

"Why _does_ that surprise you?" he gave her a mocking look.

"Your patient is dying and you're in here playing ball," she gave him a stern look as she approached the desk.

"His team is in there saying whatever it is they need to say before he dies. I figured I'd give them a few minutes before kicking them out so I can start dissecting him."

"Charming...really. Where's your team?"

"In the lab...doing lab things. I was gonna go another couple of rounds with the wall, but we could go see the circus if you want?" he raised his brows with a smirk.

She gave him an irritated look as he stood and made his way toward the door. She followed as he made his way to the elevator. "Foreman told me the symptoms," she said. "You've tested for STDs across the board, injury to the spine, medication interactions...did Wilson find anything on the MRI?"

"Nope," he glanced over at her obviously tired form. "Shouldn't you be home sleeping?"

She sent him a glare, "I've left you here unsupervised with a federal agent, who might very well die if you can't figure out what's wrong with him. You need a fresh pair of eyes."

"What I _need_ is more time," he said as the doors opened and they stepped out onto the floor, heading toward Tony's room. "Foreman tell you the patient's PCP is a medical examiner?" She cocked a brow in his direction. "Quiet an interesting guy, actually. And it's a little strange that his boss hasn't left his side since he got back from saving the world."

"Oh god, please tell me you haven't been giving him a hard time? Agent Gibbs is a highly decorated Marine _and_ one of the best NCIS agents in the field." House gave her a questioning, yet amused look. "There was wi-fi on the plane..."

"Interesting choice of who to research."

"I researched DiNozzo as well," she said as they approached the glass separation to the room and stopped. "Him first, actually, after what I heard about the plague. They've worked together for eight years. People tend to get close after that much time working together."

"Or hate each others guts," House retorted.

"Clearly, that's not the case here," she said as she watched the agents in the room before them.

*~.~*

Tony had fallen asleep before the rest of the team arrived. None of them had the heart to wake them. Just being there had been enough for what small amount of comfort it provided them. Ziva sat on one side of the bed beside her partner. Tim stood at the other side. Ducky stood beside Gibbs who was facing the window, seemingly staring out at the night sky.

In reality, Gibbs couldn't watch the faces of his younger agents anymore. It made it all the more real that this was happening, and he needed to escape, even if it was just for a little while. "Gonna go use the head," he told Ducky before tossing his cup into the trash and turning to walk out. Ducky decided to follow him after glancing briefly at the agents at the bedsides.

Doctor Mallard waited a few moments before entering the restroom after Gibbs. When he entered, the agent was at the sink washing his hands. "Is everything alright, Jethro?" he asked quietly.

"Well, no, Duck, it's not," he said flatly as he grabbed for a paper towel. "My senior agent's lyin' in a hospital bed, dying. And no one can tell me _why_!" he threw the balled up paper into the trash and slammed his fists down on the counter top. His eyes closed as he tried to bring himself under control.

Ducky stepped forward a bit, "I know this is difficult. He's more than an agent to you; he's your friend. You care for him a great deal..."

"I don't need you to tell me that, Duck," he said as he tucked his chin a bit.

"No, you don't."

"I..." he shook his head, unable to even allow himself to continue.

"I know, Jethro. You expect to lose agents on the job. But this is different."

"It's more than that," his voice was whispered as he didn't trust it not to break at normal volume. "I let myself get too close. Don't think I can handle this one, Ducky..." he shook his head, possibly in desperation to stop the tears that threatened to fall. He was exhausted...physically and emotionally, and it was only worsening the pain. "I can't lose another one..."

Ducky knew, all too well, what he meant. He couldn't handle losing someone this close, again. This man, whom he thought of as a son. He placed a hand on his friend's back, "Don't give up hope. If anyone can beat the odds, it's young Anthony."

"Not givin' up on him. I promised him that..." he stood up straight and stretched his back, then turned to face his friend. "I called his father," he told him. "Left a message tellin' him Tony was sick and that he should come ASAP."

"Did you tell Tony that?"

"Hell no, I didn't," he narrowed his eyes. "'Cause that sonofabitch probably won't show. Last thing he needs is for that bastard to break his heart one more time."

"I agree," Ducky told him. "Now, Jethro, you look exhausted. You should try and sleep a bit if you can manage."

"Not sure if I'll be able to," he said as they exited the restroom. "I'm gonna find some coffee; give Abby a call..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**tbc...**


	7. Chapter 7

"Where's Taub?" House asked as he entered the conference area.

"He had to go home," Foreman told him.

"What for?"

"Didn't say why and he didn't seem to really care what you thought about it," he raised his brows.

House cocked his jaw and squinted for a moment, "Oh well. He's been pretty much useless anyway."

"And it's been 24 hours since any of us has been home," Chase added.

"Like _that's_ never happened before," House mocked. "You've all had nap time, so tell me what good it did; we're running out of time. We need more ideas."

"I still stand by the idea that the MRI could be missing something," Remy stated.

"We could do a biopsy," Chase suggested.

"You wanna go into this guy's brain?" Foreman questioned. "It's almost morning; he's got a matter of hours left. Do you really wanna take that away from him on a hunch? There are people flying in to see him..."

"If it means it could be the difference between them saying goodbye, and us actually finding something and keeping him alive, I think it's worth it, yes," Remy argued.

"He could die on the table," Foreman retorted. "There's no evidence showing a biopsy would even find anything."

"Pretty sure if there's a chance we could save him, they'd all be willing to give it a shot," Chase said.

"Maybe if we waited until his friends got here-" Foreman started.

"He doesn't have anymore time," House interrupted; his eyes darted around the room in thought. "Not to mention he's lost consciousness. Not that that matters, since a conversation wasn't really plausible to begin with." He took a decisive breath, "Thirteen...get permission from Agent Gibbs to do the biopsy. And see if they can figure out what's taking the patient's girlfriend so long to call back. Seems a little odd there's such a lack of concern for the fact that he's in the hospital, dying."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"You wanna cut into his brain?" Gibbs questioned Dr. Hadley in the hall where she'd pulled him aside.

"If there's something in his brain causing this that we haven't been able to detect with the MRIs, this is how we can find out," she explained.

"And if you find nothing?"

"Then at least we tried everything," her eyes darted back and forth between his. "This could be the last chance we have to try and save him, Gibbs. You've gotta let us at least try..."

After a few long moments of contemplation, he met her eyes again, "When are you gonna do this?"

"We're prepping to take him in, now. We'll be ready for him in about twenty minutes." Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment, but inwardly cringed at the fact that Abby wouldn't be there for at least another hour. "I just need you to sign this," she handed him a paper on a clipboard and a pen. He took both, hesitating for a moment before signing and handing it back. "Oh...by the way, Dr. House said the girl Tony went camping with hasn't called yet. Is there any way one of you could get in contact with her?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, "She never called?" Remy shook her head. "I'll take care of it," he turned and went back into the room. "McGee, find that Tracy girl. She never called the doc."

"On it, Boss," he stood and pulled out his phone, making his way out of the room as Gibbs turned to Ducky.

"They're gonna biopsy his brain," he told the M.E. "See if they can't find something that way." His statement was one requiring affirmation that his decision to allow the procedure was valid.

"I do hope they plan to do it soon, then."

"Twenty minutes," he replied. "Abby will be pissed..."

"I'm certain she'll understand. She would be more upset to learn that they'd held off from doing whatever they could to try and help him," he tried to assure him.

"_If_ they can help him."

"Now, Jethro..." the doctor started, but decidedly ended there. Instead, he stood, "I'm going to join Ziva in the cafeteria for a few minutes. I'll bring you some more coffee." With that, he left the team leader alone with his senior field agent.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

House lazily set his desk phone back on the hook as Wilson entered the office. "I hear Chase is doing a brain biopsy on your patient," he said as he crossed the room to sit in the chair in front of House's desk. House nodded, mutely, distracted as he leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on the desk, looking absentmindedly at the x-ray up on the wall. "You don't seem to have much confidence in a positive outcome."

"It's not a positive outcome unless I figure it out _before_ he dies," he said as he picked up the tennis ball from its place on his desk. "He and his girlfriend didn't do anything unusual on their one-night camping trip last weekend. Unless sleeping out under the stars is unusual."

"Well you checked him for parasites..."

"Not so much as a mosquito bite amongst all the battle scars he's received on the job," he sighed.

"Lucky bastard...ah...well, aside from the obvious reasons why he's _not_. Last time I went camping I pulled three ticks off of me. I was paranoid for a week about getting Lyme disease."

"And I probably would've never let that go," House smirked. But then the smile faded as he looked back up at the x-ray and stood.

"I know you wouldn't have. That's why if it had actually happened, I would never have told you," he said with raised brows. Wilson watched House as he stared hard at the image on the lit-up board. "There's nothing there, House. We checked it over and over." House said nothing, but the corner of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly before he turned to quickly rush out of the office. Wilson narrowed his eyes and took his place in front of the image, squinting in efforts to find whatever it was that gave House the 'I just figured it out' look on his face...

**11 111 11 111 11**

Lisa Cuddy stood in the observation room towering over the O.R, watching the medical staff prepare Tony for the procedure. Dr. Chase glanced up at her before picking up the drill. After giving him a nod, he turned the machine on.

Cuddy wasn't surprised when House entered the observation room. But when he brushed past her and reached for the speaker phone, she cocked her head in curiosity. "Stop the procedure," House called out, and Chase looked up, turning the drill off.

"House?"

"Look in his left ear," he instructed.

"What'd you find?" Cuddy asked House.

"You're about to find out," he told her, then looked back at a confusion Dr. Chase. "Are you just gonna stand there, or save this man's life?" he asked sarcastically.

Chase set the drill down and moved to Tony's left side. Foreman joined Chase's side and observed with curiosity. "I'm not seeing anything..." Chase said as he pulled a magnifier down in front of Tony's ear.

"Look harder," House said with a hint of sarcasm. Chase shot him a glare before continuing. "You definitely missed something in the initial exam. Funny thing about bug-spray; ya never think to put it in your ears..."

Chase's eyes went wide and he grabbed for a pair of tweezers, then carefully extracted the discovery...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**tbc...**


	8. Chapter 8

McGee stood, leaning back against the rental car as he waited for Abby outside of the airport. Only half of his thoughts were focused on keeping an eye out for her. The other half were consumed with Tony and the fact that he may never be able to have another conversation with him again.

He'd left the hospital once they took Tony into the O.R, figuring he could kill some time before going to get Abby, but ultimately ended up sitting in the car contemplating how much everything would change. Sure, they'd worked without him before. But it was different then; there was always some comfort in the fact that they'd speak again...have some kind of contact, whether it be via MTAC or email. Tony being gone...completely gone... Tim couldn't even begin to know how what it would be like. He didn't want to know...

"Hey, Timmy," he looked up when he heard Abby's tired-sounding voice in front of him. He hadn't even realized she'd approached, and there was good reason for why. Abby was without makeup; hair down, instead of the normal pigtails, and she was wearing jeans and an oversized NCIS tee shirt. She was wheeling a small bag behind her before she stopped in front of him. "Oh god please don't tell me I'm too late..."

McGee furrowed his brow, "What?"

"It's just...the look on your face," she dropped her bag and threw her arms around him. "Tell me I'm not too late, McGee."

"No, Abby," he replied when he realized what she'd been thinking. He returned the hug, "My mind was just elsewhere. Sorry."

She gently pulled away, "Is he any better?" McGee worried his bottom lip between his teeth and softly shook his head before turning to grab her bag and open the door to the back seat. After setting it down on the floor behind the passenger seat, he shut the door and began to walk around to his side of the car. Abby let herself into the passenger seat and slipped on her seat belt.

After a few minutes of silent driving, she turned her head to look at Tim, "Are we really saying goodbye to Tony?" he voice cracked. His eyes shifted a bit but he didn't reply. He couldn't. She turned to face forward again. "I better put up my hair," she said as she reached into her purse. "Tony likes my pigtails and right now, I'm a mess," she flipped the visor down and began securing her hair into bands.

"What's with the clothes, anyway?" he haphazardly glanced at her.

"I spilled Caf-Pow all over myself in a rush to get out of the office," she explained. "Didn't really have much else to change in to. But I've got a change of clothes in my bag I'll put on once we get there."

"Don't bother," McGee told her without taking his eyes off the road. "He's not gonna be able to see you." His voice was flat-toned, and if she hadn't known him better, she would've thought he was emotionless. She pretended to ignore the comment as she continued. "He's unconscious. In fact, they're doing a brain biopsy as we speak...well, they might be finished by now. But still..." he was interrupted by his cell phone chirping, indicating he'd received a text.

He fished it out of his pocket as they stopped at a red light. Realizing it was from Ziva, he opened it. Tim squinted at the two simple words on the display, then looked at Abby.

"What is it?" she asked.

"She said 'good news'," he told her with widened eyes...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Tick paralysis," Dr. House explained to Gibbs, Ducky and Ziva who stood in Tony's recovery room. "Simple answer, I know. It should've been found sooner, but given the circumstances of where it was... Well, it's not the _strangest_ place I've found a tick."

"A tick caused all of this?" Gibbs inquired.

"I suspect it's been there at least seven days," Ducky told him. "Since his very short camping trip. The toxins released from the tick after that long, causes paralysis, respiratory distress, and can even be fatal if not discovered in time."

"What's that mean, now? What's his prognosis?"

"His symptoms will go away," House explained. "Might take hours; couple days at most. Either way, he'll make a full recovery."

"No treatment?" Gibbs asked.

"Removing the tick _is_ the treatment, Jethro," Ducky told him.

"So everything's gonna go away? He'll be able to use his arms and legs again?" Gibbs inquired.

"What part of _full recovery_ was unclear?" House asked, mockingly. Gibbs gave him a look that, he was sure if he hadn't just received such good news, he would've decked him. "They're removing the ventilator now. He'll be brought back in here shortly," he turned to leave.

"Thank you," Gibbs told him as the doors hissed open.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. House," Ducky said.

House turned in the doorway, "Just doing my job. Tell your agent to go all out and get a hotel room next time," he said only half-mockingly. "It'll be cheaper in the long-run." Gibbs sent him an amused smirk that he couldn't help but return before turning to walk out of the room.

"I sent McGee a text, letting him know there is good news," Ziva spoke up and the two men looked over at her. "Abby is with him by now, undoubtedly. No need for them to continue to worry, yes?"

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 **

Tony awoke in a slight daze; his eyes taking a bit to adjust to the light. He reached up to rub them a bit and as he pulled them away, he saw Gibbs come into focus next to the bed. Then as he glanced around, he saw his entire team, including Ducky and Abby, surrounding him. "What..." he coughed against the dryness of his throat. "What's goin' on, guys? M'not dead, am I?"

"You got your tube out and you can move your arms, and you're askin' if you're dead?" Gibbs asked with an amused look on his face.

Tony's eyes immediately widened as he realized exactly what he'd been told. He held his hands up in front of his face, examining them like they were the most amazing things he'd ever seen. He pushed himself up to sit and was bombarded by a big hug from Abby. "Ooompf!"

"Sorry, Tony!" she said as she continued to squeeze him. "But I've been holding this in for two whole days and I just can't anymore."

"Well...what the hell was wrong with me?" Tony asked as she gently pulled away. "Am I cured?"

"You had a tick," Ziva told him as she approached the other side of his bed and he looked up at her.

"A tick?" he asked in disbelief.

"Hidin' in your ear," Gibbs elaborated. "Apparently I didn't cut your trip short _enough_."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, "A tick..." he repeated. "Caused...everything?"

"And it's a good thing it was found in time," Ducky told him. "It could have killed you."

Tony's eye twitched, "Wait...so I had lyme disease or something?"

"Heavens, no," Ducky said. "You'd be here quite a bit longer if that were the case. No, you had what's known as tick paralysis. Once they remove the tick, the symptoms go away fairly quickly. In fact, it's only been a few hours and you seem to be showing much improvement. Which, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear, means that you can leave here soon."

Tony's expression was mixed with relief and amazement. For a moment, even confused. But then he smiled, "How soon?" They all turned their heads toward the door as it hissed open and Dr. Hadley came in.

"Oh good," she smiled, "You're awake. They're bringing up a dinner tray for you," she approached the bed and Ziva moved out of her way. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she readied her stethoscope.

"Feeling...key word," he grinned.

She returned the grin, "I'm gonna take a listen to your lungs." She glanced briefly around the room while moving the back of his gown away. Gibbs motioned for the team to clear the room and leave the doctor to examine Tony and he followed behind them. "Take a couple of deep breaths," she told him, and he complied. "Sounds good," she said as she took the earpieces out and draped the device around her neck.

"So when do I get outta here, Doc? Not that haven't enjoyed the service," he flashed an infamous DiNozzo grin.

"As soon as you can walk yourself out," she replied. He abruptly swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood. "Whoa whoa whoa," she let out a small laugh.

"Nah, I got this," he said as he took a few wobbly steps. "See, I'm a pro!"

"Yeah, okay," she lead him back to the bed. "But humor me and give it a little while longer?"

"Only if I can get your number," he grinned mischievously. "Ya know, in case I have any questions or concerns later."

"Ducky seems pretty capable of answering any questions you might have," she replied with a smirk.

"He's not as pretty to look at, though."

"You can't _see_ me over the phone."

"Is this just your polite way of turnin' me down, Dr. Hadley?"

"Were you asking me out?" she raised a brow.

"Not if the answer is 'no'," he squinted.

"Don't you have a girlfriend? You went camping with her a week ago..."

"She uh...isn't interested in guys who have to ditch plans for being called into work," he smirked sadly.

"I'm sorry..."

"Nah, that's okay. I didn't know he very well. It was...kind of a second date. I figured you might understand a little better about that sorta thing, seein' as you've been here as long as I have."

She smiled again, "Remy."

"Huh?"

"My name," she said as she pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "If you ever have any 'questions'," she winked then turned around to walk out. Tony pasted a satisfied yet surprised smile on his face.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

"Gibbs has the car waiting out front," McGee told Tony as he stepped into the room. "You ready?" he picked up Tony's overnight bag.

"Yeah," Tony stood and appraised his partner. "You okay, Probie? Ya kinda look like crap."

"Gee, thanks, Tony."

"No, seriously. I've been in the hospital for two days and I'm pretty sure I'm lookin' better than you," his tone conveyed joking, but his face showed genuine concern.

"I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night on account of thinking you were gonna die and all."

"You were worried about me?" he smiled proudly.

Tim furrowed his brow, "They said you weren't gonna make it another day. 'Course I was worried, Tony. I thought we'd be leaving here without you," his voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he hoped Tony hadn't heard it.

"Don't be silly, McGoo," he said with a smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. "You couldn't have left my body here."

"Shut up, DiNozzo," he swallowed. "It's not funny. I...couldn't even..." he stumbled over his words, desperately trying to hold himself together; inwardly cursing himself that he felt this way even after having his fear alleviated. "When they took you to the O.R, I thought I'd missed my chance to tell you...to _thank_ you."

"Thank me?" it was Tony's turn to furrow his brow.

"For helping me to become a better agent," he explained. "And..." he stopped himself and his eyes darted around the room uncomfortably.

After a few moments, Tony spoke instead, "I wanted to tell you somethin', too." Tim met his eyes again. "Unfortunately, I had no way to say a damn thing to anyone. But what I wanted to say to you was that I was really glad to have worked with you all these years. And that I'm sorry about always givin' you a hard time..." McGee shook his head, but Tony continued, "And I wanted to thank you for being my friend even so."

Tim looked at him for a moment, then nodded, silently agreeing/returning the statement. "I'm really glad you're not dead, Tony," he said, then felt compelled to give him a brief hug.

"Me too, Probie," Tony said with a smirk as he returned the hug. "Now let's get the hell outta here."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**Later that night...**

Tony was laid out comfortably on his couch, watching a movie and taking a bite of his third slice of pizza. Somehow he'd managed to sleep the whole plane ride home, and after a somewhat touching moment with Ziva, if you could even call it that after overcoming the nausea induced by her driving him home, he'd opted for spending the rest of his night doing a couple of his favorite things.

Part of him felt slightly compelled to call Gibbs. There were things he'd wished he could've said in the hospital, and only God knew if there might come another time he'd be back in a situation where he'd be regretful about 'wouldas' and 'shouldas'.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a light knocking at his door. So light, in fact, that he wasn't even sure he'd really heard anything. But he rose from the couch and went to the door anyway, peeking through the peephole before opening it. "What're ya doin' here, Boss?" he asked,

surprised by his sudden appearance. "Not that you're not welcome or anything...but uh..." he backed away to let him enter.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied. "Didn't know if you were still up," he said as he walked into the apartment. Tony noticed he was carrying a six-pack of beer with him.

"Apparently, I've been sleeping the better part of two days," Tony said with a smirk as he closed the door behind them. "What's _your_ excuse?"

Gibbs set the beer down on the coffee table. "Almost lost a good friend today," he replied, grabbing two of the beers by the necks, in one hand, and turning to face his senior agent.

Tony flinched, a bit surprised by his words. But then he quickly replaced it with another smirk, "Oh yeah? Who's that?" Gibbs cocked his head and took a step forward to smack the back of Tony's head with his free hand. Tony feigned a painful squeak. "Love you, too, Boss."

Gibbs smirked and handed Tony one of the bottles before turning to sit on the couch. "What're ya watchin'?"

Tony joined him on the couch as he popped the top off of his beer, "Just a Clint Eastwood flick. You'll probably like it, Boss. He kinda reminds me of you, in this one."

"I've seen it," he said as he squinted at the screen. "Gran Torino?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, "Since when do you watch movies?"

Gibbs smirked and cocked his head, "Heard it was good. Someone said I'd like it."

"Did you?"

"Wasn't bad," he took a swig of his beer. As the movie dragged on, Tony realized that no words really ever needed to be said. Gibbs had always been a man of few of them, anyway. So it was within his power to know what someone else was thinking, without it ever being said. And by him showing up there that night, Gibbs had shown Tony that same respect; there'd never been an oversight...

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

**Fin~**

**AN: screw proof-reading...seriously lol. Hope I didn't make too many mistakes. Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
